


Know your demons, then burn them

by Alice_vs_Wonderland



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 20:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_vs_Wonderland/pseuds/Alice_vs_Wonderland
Summary: Requested by user Gorwang on Tumblr.Hiccup is struggling to deal with the aftermath of his accident but refuses to talk about it. Jack is growing desperate, afraid Hiccup is succumbing to his demons.





	Know your demons, then burn them

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for not having posted anything in a while! :) Anyway, I hope you like this. As always, comments = love.

Suppressing your emotions is like carving a door into your brain and handing out lollipops to the approaching demons. Jack knew this. Those demons will build nests. They will thrive. They will color everything you think with their lies. And eventually, one day, they will snap your mind in two, and you won’t be able to recognize yourself, when you damage yourself or those you love.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jack watched Hiccup’s leg bounce up and down, foot slapping down on the wooden floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. How could the tapping of a foot say so much? It was a restless knocking, deep and clear among Ash’s confused voice on the TV, and the rain slamming onto the roof and dissolving.

Hiccup rested on the other end of the couch, leaning back into a pile of squishy pillows. He was reading a book on the mythology of dragons, but hadn’t turned a page in half an hour. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound spoke words Hiccup couldn’t. _I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this._ Jack had heard it for months, and the misery always sunk its teeth further into his ribs. The sting was his only company late at night, when fragmented thoughts and a stressed heartbeat kept him awake. He was afraid Hiccup was feeding his demons not fighting them.

Jack shifted on the couch, the soft cushions a stark contrast to the tension in his muscles. He looked at Hiccup’s face, really looked at it. The thing was… Hiccup was good at seeming normal. And he was good at insisting he was fine. He even resumed his education in engineering very shortly after he was sent home from the hospital. But it was suppressing and suppressing and then suppressing some more. Jack noticed the little things that had become more and more ordinary since the accident. The way Hiccup’s lips were often slightly parted, because he was breathing faster than normal. The tension in his shoulders, muscles tight under his skin. How his eyes would turn cloudy for brief moments, before he shook it off and came back to the world. And Jack’s guilt was dust under bird wings, spreading into every tiny corner of his being. He grabbed the remote and put the TV on pause. Ash was being a dumb fuck anyway. How he failed to recognize Team Rocket yet again underneath their shockingly bad disguises was beyond him.

Hiccup’s eyes landed on him, asking a silent question. Jack’s throat was dry, the anxiety of voicing his feelings, his intentions, making it hard to swallow and breathe. How did he normally breathe? He was sure, it wasn’t meant to feel this difficult. He pulled his feet up into the couch. Feet. Plural. He was thankful he had become used to not looking. Otherwise, he might have glanced at Hiccup’s leg. But Hiccup was looking at him, like he was expecting an explanation for the sudden silence. Jack did his best to make his smile soft instead of sad. Hiccup didn’t look convinced. Shit. He had that same look in his eyes, when Jack had spilled soda all over one of his sketchbooks and tried to cover it up by saying Toothless had developed an overwhelming desire for soda.

“So…” Hiccup said, lowering the book into his lap, “Are we just going to sit here in silence and stare at each other, or are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Hiccup’s sudden need to cut to the chase was unexpected, and Jack couldn’t quite explain, why the words awoke a reluctance inside him. Why he had the sudden urge to run. “What?” he said and tried to give a reassuring smile. It felt wrong on his lips, and he was sure it looked fake. “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Hiccup said, but there was no bite to his words. He sounded tired more than angry, and his eyes showed it too, dull instead of blazing. Jack had tried his best to be optimistic about Hiccup’s changing appearance. But in this moment, he realized, it wasn’t just a matter of days or weeks before everything would go back to normal.

“Uhm…” Jack said, fiddling with his hands in his lap. Shit. How was he supposed to transform his feelings and concerns into words?

Hiccup scratched his head, where his hair had turned dry and dull. He looked at him, but his eyes didn’t hold the same fire they did before. Hiccup looked faded, washed out. Those flames, the ones that cracked and popped under Hiccup’s skin, the ones that made him the passionate, strong, brave person Jack had fallen so hopelessly in love with, had been suffocated. The thought poured hot tears into Jack’s eyes. He snapped his gaze away.

“Jack?” Hiccup said. There was a change in his tone. Like he was concerned. Damn it. _Well done, Jack. Like Hiccup doesn’t have enough shit to deal with._

Jack stared at his hands, while the world filled with water and everything blurred. The flames in Hiccup were gone. He could almost feel flakes of ash on his tongue, tasting like smoke and despair. He could feel himself being pulled towards an emotional avalanche, where wails and sobs would bury him. But he dug his nails into his thigh, hard. He would never give up. Those flames had to be reignited. And they would. Some day. He cleared his throat and tried to blink away the tears. _Don’t cry in front of him. Seriously. Do. Not. Cry. You’re only going to make him feel worse._

He felt the cushions dip, as Hiccup slid across them. When Jack felt a warm hand, a loved hand, rest on his own, his first instinct was to grab it tight and let the sobs out, the ones he kept suppressed, even when it felt like they were going to crack right through his throat Fuck. He felt his own exhaustion begin to poke through the surface, and he couldn’t let it show. _Your pain is nothing compared to his. Such fucking irony… You want him to stop suppressing, but you’re doing exactly the same._

“Jack,” Hiccup said. This time it was more insistent. It was Hiccup’s no-nonsense voice.

Jack swallowed, and it felt painful in his throat. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Hiccup said. The answer was so quick, so dismissive. It poked that place in Jack’s core, the place where he kept his protectiveness of Hiccup, a place where there was not only support and understanding but anger… Anger at the people that had made Hiccup think, he wasn’t worthy of happiness, love and understanding. And sometimes… when Jack was hurting, there was even anger towards Hiccup. For still not taking care of himself. For risking his health and his safety. Didn’t he even realize, he held Jack’s entire world in his hands?  

Jack rolled his eyes. “Sure, Hic. That’s how this works.” He had meant for it to sound joking, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I know,” Hiccup said, like he was being serious.

Jack pulled his hand away from Hiccup’s. There was a blank look on Hiccup’s face. He hated that look. It was the look he had, when he didn’t want anyone to see, how he was really feeling. “Like you don’t worry about me in insane amounts, whenever I’m sick,” Jack said, to try to keep this conversation going. Because this was all right. This was letting his feelings out without going overboard and overwhelming Hiccup. This was safe.

Hiccup shrugged. “That’s just because you might die from a cold.”

“Not this again,” Jack said, “I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m just whiny, when I get sick, and I make it sound like I’m dying, because that’s what it feels like.”

“You’re not-“

“I swear, Hiccup, if you say one more time that it’s because I’m not Scandinavian, I’m going to fart on your toothbrush.”

The corners of Hiccup’s lips twitched. “If you do, I’ll have to buy a new toothbrush anyway, since the brushes will have melted clean off.”

Jack did a little gasp, like a noble woman who was outraged by a saucy story. “Just what are you implying here?”

Hiccup stared him straight in the eye, unblinking. “That your farts should be dealt with by people in hazmat suits.”

Jack crossed his arms and leaned back onto the cushions. “Not so tough now, are you, Scandinavian man? Can’t even handle a couple of farts.”

Hiccup hummed. “I’m still the toughest in this relationship.”

“That’s up for debate.”

“It really isn’t.”

Jack was about to open his mouth and fire back, when he realized, what was going on. He had been lured into this sense of normalcy without even realizing it. As much as it pained him to admit it, fun wasn’t always the answer. Sometimes, fun could be too distracting, an innocent face that grabbed your attention, while your heart rotted away.

His silence hadn’t gone unnoticed by Hiccup, if the way he refused to meet Jack’s eyes was any indication. Damn. They both knew. The wall between them had never felt stronger. It was built out of hesitant looks and careful words. Jack’s heart felt like it was sinking, sinking, sinking, like the couch cushions bending under his weight. He picked at his nails. The realization that he had to smash himself against it soon, until it broke, left a chill gliding over his bones. He wanted to reach out and take Hiccup’s hand. To hold him close, so he could never disappear. Fuck. What if this ended up breaking them? Just the thought held enough power that Jack felt like he was suffocating, like the air sprouted wildflowers in his throat.

Hiccup had hunched over, staring at the blue pillow by Jack’s side. Jack could almost feel the reluctance whirring around him like a barrier, a shield. It said _don’t talk about this, leave it alone._

Jack wished he could do that. “Don’t change the subject by joking around,” he said, and playing this part felt unnatural. Hiccup felt it too. He could tell from the brief twitch of his forehead, as his eyebrows drew closer together. The accident had changed them. Their relationship had always been a soothing current gliding over the ocean rocks. Calm. Uncomplicated. But now… now their waters were wearing them down, filing away at their strength. And unless they found a way to restore, what they had lost, they would both end up as nothing but dust. Jack was sure, it was that thought, that gave him the determination to say the words, everyone dreaded to hear. “We need to talk…”

The words tumbled from Hiccup’s lips, quiet and soft. “Not today.”

“This isn’t healthy, Hic,” he said and hated how small he sounded. Hiccup’s eyes found him and there was a flash of something sharp in them. Jack’s guilt writhed inside his veins, rusty and serrated.  

“I know that,” Hiccup said. Jack noticed, how he clenched his jaw. It was a warning. He was pretty much stomping across Hiccup’s thin ice with concrete boots on. But it didn’t matter. If he didn’t do this, if he didn’t risk falling into the freezing waters, Hiccup would keep stacking ice blocks all around him, until they were too strong to tear down.

Tears poured into Jack’s eyes again. This time, he let Hiccup see it, let him see how much this affected him. “Then change it. Talk to me. Tell me.”

Showing his pain softened the hardness in Hiccup’s eyes, just like Jack knew it would. Any hostility from Hiccup towards him was a swipe of claws from a scared cat and nothing more. Hiccup wrapped his arms tight around his knees. “It’s not that easy. You make it sound so bearable.”

Jack’s heart drummed in a fast rhythm, like it was trying to beat the speed of the raindrops smashing into the concrete outside. Bearable… Meaning it was unbearable to tell him about it. No, no, no. He had to change that. “That’s because it is. It is bearable, please tell me.”

The transformation took him by surprise. The almost invisible tremble in Hiccup’s hands, and his hard stare were needles in Jack’s lungs. He forgot how to breathe. He no longer had any air, only dread. “Oh really?” Hiccup said, and it was a sickening mix of anger and pretend curiosity that only demons could conjure, “Have you tried losing a limb? No, I didn’t think so. Don’t tell me, it’s easy to talk about, when you know nothing about it.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jack said, the words spewing out of his mouth with no filter. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. Don’t shut me out. Just try.”

Hiccup sighed. “I have tried, okay? I’m not ready. Not today.”

And with those words, Hiccup tore a hole in Jack’s self-restraint. His misery began to leak out in snappy words. “Not today, not today, not today,” he said, “Haven’t I been patient? Haven’t I given you plenty of support and plenty of space and time?”

“Yes,” Hiccup said and curled in on himself like a kid with a guilty conscience.

“I’ve let you have your space for a long time now. I haven’t pushed you to talk or do anything, but enough is enough. This is bad for you. It’s bad for us. There’s this huge wall between us, that I don’t know how to break down!” He said, and when he felt something wet and hot finally glide out of his eyes and down his cheeks, it was purifying.

“Don’t talk like that,” Hiccup said, his eyes fixating on the floor, like the wooden boards were worthy of intense study.

“Why not?” Jack said, “It’s the truth. I know it. You know it.”

Hiccup stayed silent, and Jack watched the nervous actions, he knew so well. Like how Hiccup would blink more than usual, would grab the ends of his hair and tug on it, or drum his fingers on the nearest surface. Tap. Tap. Tap. There was that fucking sound again. It was everything that was wrong with this situation. It was the embodiment of Hiccup’s pain, his reluctance to let anyone see that pain, the misery that had burrowed into Jack and made a nest there. Hiccup’s silence made that stupid tapping so much louder, and it was like splinters pushing into his head.

But despite all of that… Despite his desire to snap the legs off the coffee table, and rip the cushions into a thousand pieces, while screaming and crying and just letting it all out, out, out, he did nothing like that. He couldn’t. Not when it would only push Hiccup deeper behind that wall of ice. “Don’t do that,” Jack said, “Don’t go all silent on me, that’s even worse than all those deflections.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Hiccup said, and that alone seemed to upset him even more. He began to breathe faster and dig his nails into the cushion.

“Anything,” Jack said, throwing a rope over the ice blocks, hoping Hiccup would at least take it in his hand, “Anything you can put into words about all this shit you’re dealing with. Anything at all.”

“Talking about it hurts,” Hiccup said and lowered his head, like he always did, when he had to admit a weakness, “I’m not ready.”

There was a feeling in Jack’s gut. A sharp jolt with damaging potential. He didn’t want to recognize it as rejection, but it was. “You haven’t tried talking about it,” he said, putting all his effort into making it sound like gentle coaxing and not a hard accusation.

And Hiccup finally looked at him again. Jack wished it would bring him relief, but it didn’t, because Hiccup’s eyes seemed infinite, dark and glassy with memories. Jack felt like a naïve observer of something abstract, something beyond his ability to understand. “This isn’t the first time something terrible has happened to me,” Hiccup said.

And Jack couldn’t argue with that. No one could. But Hiccup was not only pushing him away and damaging their relationship but damaging his own health. Jack could accept a lot of things, but never those two. Never those two. They were sacred. “I know…” he said, “But what you’re doing now… how you’re handling this… It’s only making it worse.”

Hiccup got up from the couch, and Jack had to blink, before he could process it. The way he hobbled over to the window, shaky and pained, left Jack with the overwhelming urge to follow him, to pull him into his arms. Instead, he clenched his fists, as if that would make the urge leave, because Hiccup must have really needed some space. He was still reluctant to walk much in front of others, because he hadn’t gotten used to the artificial limb.

The groan Hiccup let out, when he leaned against the window frame spoke of frustration and anger. Like he was pissed at himself for deciding to walk over there. Like his pride was hurt. It probably was. Hiccup turned and looked out of the window, where the raindrops swam down the glass with feather-like softness. The late afternoon was turning into evening, the darkness sliding into the skies from above. Hiccup leaned his hands on the window sill and just stood there, watching the rain falling into the world.

Jack got to his feet and tried to ignore his nervous heart spreading waves of nausea. “Talk to me.”

“Not today,” Hiccup said.

“When then?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough, Hic,” Jack said, “I can’t just stand by and watch you do this.”

Hiccup’s shoulders tensed. “You’re not the judge of what I should do.”

“Yes, I fucking am,” Jack said and this time, he couldn’t help the anger that bled into his words, “I am the fucking judge of what’s best for you, when you’re risking your health”. _And risking everything we have together._

He heard Hiccup let out a slow breath, trying to calm himself down. The nervousness shot into every corner of Jack’s body, but there was no way back now. They had to resolve this. Hurt now or be destroyed later.

“You don’t know…” Hiccup said, struggling to get the words out. Jack wished, he could see his face. “You don’t know, what it’s like to deal with this.”

“No, because you won’t tell me,” Jack said, “And it’s not just hurting you, it’s hurting me too. We’re both hurting… “

“I know,” Hiccup said, his voice trembling. Jack had no doubt Hiccup was overwhelmed with guilt. Somehow, it made everything worse… that they were both struggling with the guilt and feeling powerless to change it. “But I don’t know what to do. I can’t…” Hiccup said and didn’t elaborate.

And in that moment, Jack knew he had to land a low blow. He had to piss Hiccup off, he had to fight dirty, he had to jab his finger straight into a very deep wound, he only knew existed, because Hiccup had trusted him with it. A wound that had everything to do with how Hiccup was acting now, with how he was neglecting himself.

The nausea, the breathlessness, the dryness in his throat, everything whirled and churned and cracked inside him from the thought of doing it. But Jack had no more options open to him. Hiccup hadn’t taken the rope and climbed over the ice blocks. “So… what you’re saying, is that they were right,” he said and was thankful that Hiccup had his back to him. He wasn’t sure, he could do this while facing him.

“Who?” Hiccup said.

“Snotlout. The twins. Astrid. Everyone on Berk.” The memory of Hiccup telling him, of finding out the cause of many of his issues, still left something toxic and dark fuming under his skin.

“About what?” Hiccup said, but his tone betrayed him. It was wary. He knew this was heading into uncomfortable territory.

“That you’re worthless. Useless.” Jack said and felt like throwing up, “That’s what they always said, right? They said you weren’t worth anything. Not their time, not their concern, not anything. If you were drowning, they probably wouldn’t even have tried to save you,” he said, and he couldn’t help the stinging bitterness towards the Berkians.

Hiccup’s entire body stiffened. His hands gripped the window sill tighter. But he didn’t answer.

“What you’re doing now… is proving them right. You’re proving them right, Hiccup,” he said, “You’re acting like you’re worthless, like you don’t deserve help or support, like you’re meant to fight all the battles alone, because no one should waste their time or energy on you. You’re nothing, that’s what you’re saying.”

Hiccup didn’t move or speak. He stood, frozen, fingers digging into the wood.

“And that’s what they always said, right?” Jack said, wanting to stop himself, “That you’re nothing. That you’re not even worth the dirt under their soles. That you should always be alone, no one should ever give a shit about you, because you’re just a big burden on everyone. That-“

“What do you want to know!?” Hiccup yelled and slammed his palm against the window frame.

Jack took a step back. His heart jumped. It felt like all the air had rushed out of him. Hiccup whirled around and stared straight at him. Jack had managed to slam a fist through the wall. There was air coming through the hole in the ice blocks.

“Do you want to know, how it felt to be surrounded by fire and smoke? How it felt, being sure I was going to die? Do you want to know, how scared I was?” Hiccup said. His eyes were gleaming with tears and anger in the glow of the ceiling lamp, and Jack hated himself.

Jack held his hands over his chest, because his heart hurt too fucking much, it hurt like it was going to burst open and kill him with its pulsating rot. “Hiccup…”

Hiccup tilted his head, almost like he was curious. But his eyes and his sharp words left no doubt. “Or do you want to know how it felt, when my leg was trapped under the machinery, and I saw all the blood just pour out, and my skin all ripped open?”

The tears left wet trails down Jack’s cheeks. His lungs were unwilling to help him get enough air, his breaths were short, sharp, hurting. Not enough. Not enough.

Hiccup gestured wildly with his hands. “Or would you like a detailed account about how panicked I was, when Toothless came in to save me? How I was sure, he was going to die too, that he was going to suffer, and it was going to be my fault?! How it felt to watch my dog, my best friend sink his teeth into my leg and rip it the rest of the way off, so he could drag me to safety?! How excruciating the pain was!?” Hiccup yelled with a rawness that could leave bleeding cracks in his throat. The tears flowed down Hiccup’s skin like glistening snow, and even in this moment, even in his deepest pain, in his most vulnerable state, Jack thought Hiccup was one of the strongest people, he would ever know.

“Hic..” he said, barely getting the word out of his mouth. Everything was too much. Hiccup’s tears, his voice, rough with misery, his narrowed eyes, where the anger tried to conceal the hurt. Fuck, he was thankful Toothless was staying at Astrid’s for the night. He couldn’t even imagine how it would affect him, seeing Hiccup like this, hearing how scared he was that Toothless might die or suffer. Jack needed a moment to just breathe. The pain, the anger, the sadness, were threatening to suffocate them both right here in their living-room among rows of comic books and nerdy figurines. “I can’t even begin to imagine, what you’ve been through, so I’m not going to pretend I can… But I want to know. Everything. Anything. Anything you’re willing to tell me.”

Hiccup’s stare changed. The anger melted away, and he looked almost… lost. “Why?”

“Why?” Jack said and shook his head, “Do you have to ask that? I love you. I want to help you. I want to give you support, so you don’t have to carry this around all alone. No one should carry something like that all alone.”

He could see the calm sadness washing over Hiccup like cool water in his veins, pushing out all the bitterness, all the resistance.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Hiccup understood. He understood, why he had to rip open one of his old wounds.

“I just want to forget,” Hiccup said, leaning back against the window sill, like he was struggling to keep standing.

“I know,” Jack said, moving closer to Hiccup, “I know. But you never will. The best thing you can do, the quickest way to make it hurt less, is to not be alone with it.”

“I know,” Hiccup said and stared at his hands, “I know it, but I have no idea how.”

“Do you trust me?” Jack said, stopping at Hiccup’s side. He reached out, slowly, giving Hiccup a chance to move away. But he didn’t, and that action alone spoke louder than words could.

“Of course, I do…” Hiccup said. The certainty in his voice was a soothing salve for Jack’s fragile, beaten up heart.

“Okay,” Jack said, and wrapped his arm around Hiccup’s waist. He pulled him close, and when Hiccup leaned his head onto his shoulder, he knew they would be able to move forward and start healing. “Then leave some of it to me. Trust me to help you,” he said and pressed his lips to Hiccup’s forehead.

Hiccup was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, Jack was surprised by how much relief and warmth a person could feel by one single word. “Okay.”

* * *

 

The workshop mocked him with its pristine exterior. A fresh layer of blue paint colored the bricks. New windows and doors shone in the afternoon sunlight. Spotless. The sight stopped Hiccup in his tracks. It was like nothing had happened. Soft fur brushed against his hand. Toothless whined. Jack turned to look at him. Hiccup could feel his quizzical expression, but his eyes couldn’t leave the front of the workshop. The newness. The freshness. Something snapped inside him, fragile and submissive like the dry pine needles under his boot. He knew this feeling. The feeling of being dismissed. Of the world pretending his pain did not exist. He dug his nails into his thighs. He wished, he could glue the pine needles back together.

“Hic?”

Hiccup took in the printed signs in the shop window. They were all new. Fresh ink on blindingly white paper. No trace of faded color by their time spent in the sun, or Gobber’s accidental smudges of everything from chocolate to paint. His teeth pressed down on each other.

“Hey, Hic?”

A brand new welcome mat, fresh from the box. No history. No memories. Just clean. Hiccup knew everything had to be fixed. But sometimes you want your pain to bite a mark into the world. It’s not okay that you’re the only one with teeth marks that burn late at night. You’re different. So, the world needs to be different. At least a little bit. But there were no marks here.

Fingers clamped down on his shoulder. “Hic!”

How long had he been standing there just staring? From the furrow of concern on Jack’s forehead, probably too long to be considered normal. Toothless pressed himself against Hiccup’s side and the warmth brought him a sliver of comfort.

“Yeah,” he said and pushed forward to avoid having to talk about it. He had no idea how to form these feelings into words, and he didn’t like the prospect of having to fumble around for words that were vague like a dream. His steps were quick and determined. The only way to do this was to power through. He would hurry inside, so he didn’t get a chance to do more thinking. His heartbeat matched Toothless’ irregular, hurried pitter patter on the sidewalk.

When he closed his fingers around the cold doorknob, he couldn’t move. For all his intentions, for all his sudden determination, he couldn’t open the door. He stared at his fingers on the doorknob. His grip looked tight and twisted, much like that suffocating, dark _something_ curling around his gut.

“Hic … it’s okay,” Jack said and put a hand on his shoulder, his voice and his touch full of the softness of snowflakes. Toothless nudged his furry head into his hip as encouragement.

“How is this okay?” he said. His eyes felt warm with those annoying tears. The kind that ripped off precious pieces of his self-worth, because what the fuck, how was he being so pathetic right now? It was just a building. Just a place. So, why was the doorknob turning warm and moist under his hand?

“Just trust me,” Jack said and squeezed his shoulder, “You’re doing great.”

“I’m not,” he said, but one look at the pain in Jack’s eyes, the pain that was so clearly on his behalf, and he wanted to burrow a tunnel deep into the ground to protect himself from the chill of shame. He tightened his grip on the doorknob.

“You _are_ doing great,” Jack said, brushing his thumb back and forth on Hiccup’s shoulder, “I could tell you were planning to just stomp in there, go through every room and then back out, like it would make it easier to just do it quickly, but … I don’t think it would be better that way.”

“I’m… sorry. I’m really sorry,” he said. He hated that _thing_ his pain was turning him into. The thing that spit out bitter words at the people he loved more than anything. Jack was only trying to help him. He repeated that sentence in his head.

“It’s okay,” Jack said, “I know you’re not doing it on purpose,” and how did Hiccup even deserve to have this human embodiment of all things good and pure as his boyfriend? Fuck. Jack was too good for him.

He shook his head as an answer. He knew his words would hold all his inferiority and insecurity, and that would only bring Jack more hurt. His self-loathing was an infected wound. Always implanted in his skin, oozing bitter pus in sick pulsations that came from hurtful words and unrealistic expectations. Sometimes it would rip open for a while, and Hiccup would think he was going to choke on the acid fizzing under his bones and flesh.

“There’s no right or wrong answer to this,” Jack said, and he didn’t even know how often his kindness and understanding kept Hiccup’s mind together like gentle palms on each side of his skull, “You need to focus on what will help you get through this, not what anyone else might need, or what you think people expect you to do.”

Hiccup closed his eyes and tried to fill his lungs slowly. But his anxiety had nails and they dug into him, in, in, in, through his ribs and soft flesh. When he opened his eyes, Jack watched him with that intense glimmer in his eyes. The one that spoke of emotions with the depth of ancient roots, the one that made promises of comforting hands and an unwavering presence. Solid, warm, like the concrete under Hiccup’s feet, bathed in the afternoon sunlight. And Hiccup knew, he was unworthy. But like a greedy leech, he sucked it all in and let it sustain him. When he spoke, he was relieved he didn’t stutter. “I need to see it today,” he said, “Otherwise… I might not be able to do it at all.”

“I get it,” Jack said, “But you’re not alone in this, okay? I’ll be here with you. Toothless will be here with you. Nothing is going to hurt you.” Toothless pressed his nose into Hiccup’s thigh. Hiccup let his hand fall to Toothless’ head, combing his fingers through soft fur instead of gripping a warm doorknob. He was reminded of all the other times, Toothless and Jack had been there for him. Steady. Loyal. Supportive. Their presence branched out like wildflowers in his lungs, and it felt like he could breathe easier.

“We’re going to go inside now. Is that okay? Any time you want to leave, we’ll leave. You’re not trapped. You’re not obligated to do anything,” Jack said.

Hiccup nodded. The words had withered in his throat. Words to properly describe how Jack’s and Toothless’ support wrapped around him with the softness of moss, and protected him from his own sharp edges. He stared at the doorknob and lifted his hand. The metal was still disgustingly warm and moist.

“Just…” Jack said and licked his lips, one of his nervous ticks that Hiccup knew well, “When you’re ready, open the door.”

Hiccup’s spooked heartbeat rammed against his ribs, like it was intent on leaving dents. The wait would only give it more power, so he put his key in and pushed the door open, the hinges whining in the silence. The bell above the door clinked, a merry sound that Hiccup couldn’t help resenting.

The workshop was just like he remembered it. Except new. Clean. Same but different. It no longer had the scratch on the bathroom door after Hiccup’s accident with a new hammer last summer. Hiccup let go of the gross door knob. Memories had been erased. He had spent a big part of his childhood in this workshop.

He stepped into the room, his eyes gliding over every piece of equipment and furniture, every box full of Gobber’s “organized chaos”, every door and window sill. He had fond memories of Gobber teaching him things, of experimenting, even of the things that went wrong. Those memories only lived in Hiccup’s head now, relying on him to remember them for the rest of his life without losing fragments. That pressure creaked inside his heart like the floor boards under his feet. He let his fingers slide over his workstation, the wooden surface rough against his fingertips. His usual tools were neatly arranged on the wall, just like he had left them that night. Except those weren’t his tools. Those were new tools. Identical but not his tools. Those weren’t the tools he had carefully selected and saved money to buy. That red screwdriver on the far left was not the screwdriver Gobber had first given him, when he was 7 years old and wanted to learn how to build things.

He stepped away from the workstation. His mind fired images at him. The smell of smoke. His eyes stinging. Lungs tickling. A weight on his leg. Sharp teeth. Blood. Fingernails digging into the floor. Screams. And suddenly, the room was spinning. Colors blurring together. His head throbbed, like skin pulling back hard. His windpipe closed up, tight, so tight. Knees, weak and feathery. He slid down to the floor. Toothless was by his side, letting him lean on him, whining and licking his cheek. “Hey, hey, are you okay?” Jack said and crouched down to face him, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I need… to get out,” Hiccup managed to force out between his heaving breaths. How was it so difficult to just breathe? Was he sweating? The air was thick and disgusting.

“Of course,” Jack said and reached out his hand. Hiccup was pulled to his feet. Toothless leaned into him to make sure he didn’t stumble. Jack steadied him with a hand on his waist. Hiccup was being suffocated. The walls, the memories, the cleanliness and neatness. He gasped to pull in more air, but it didn’t come. Shit. Fuck. His lungs were burning.

Jack dragged him with him out of the door. The sunset splashed red and golden colors into his vision. The early evening air blew a chill into his cheeks. Jack put his hands on Hiccup’s shoulders and stared at him. His face was open with fear, his blue eyes large and searching, his lips parted, like he wanted to spit out reassurances faster than his brain could follow. Hiccup’s heaving was loud in his own head. Toothless’ paw nudged at his leg. Careful but incessant. It felt like worry.

“Breathe, just breathe,” Jack said, his voice spilling through Hiccup’s ears with the same calming comfort of silence after screams.

Hiccup tried. His heart, his lungs, his throat, everything ached and buzzed and spun around. Jack’s hands slid down his sides and wrapped around him. He pulled Hiccup to the ground with care. Hiccup followed with no protest, letting Jack get him into a sitting position with his back against the brick wall. Toothless wasted no time. He crawled into Hiccup’s lap and leaned his head against his chest. Jack scooted to their side and put his arm around Hiccup’s shoulder. Jack rested his head in Hiccup’s neck. Hiccup lowered his head to brush his nose against Toothless’ fur.

The three of them sat there on the sidewalk, entangled in each other. He didn’t care if anyone saw them. Jack and Toothless. Their familiar scents, their warmth, their softness. It reached into his mind and guided him down from his panic like a gentle hand. His breathing was fast, and his chest felt like it had been stomped on, but it was not as panicked as only a moment ago.

Hiccup tried again to slow his breathing, and this time it went better. He focused on breathing in and out, in and out, in and out, while Jack and Toothless were wrapped around him like a protective cocoon. He could feel Toothless’ heartbeat and Jack’s breathing on his skin. It was a moment of just being. Of clarity. As long as he had them, he would manage to claw his way through suffering. It would be difficult sometimes. It would hurt, and he would struggle. But they would be there with loving words and gentle guidance. He kissed the top of Jack’s head and ran his fingers over Toothless’ neck. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. They gave his life meaning. They were the stitches that held his frayed ends together. Breathe. He watched the sunset grow redder and redder, casting its glow over dull, grey office buildings and shiny store fronts. Breathe. The town had grown quiet, only a few people with shopping bags and backpacks still around. Breathe.

It was almost dark, the last bloody ribbons of the sun swirling along the skies, when Hiccup had calmed his breathing enough to trust his voice. He tightened his grip on the two he loved most in the world. “I love you,” he said, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Toothless licked his hand. They never needed words.

“We know,” Jack mumbled, “You’re a fucking mess. You’re lucky I’m here to help you with my wisdom.”

Hiccup smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it felt good. “I’m not the one insisting Ben & Jerry’s is made by aliens.”

“It’s so fucking good, it’s just not possible for humans to produce something that tasty,” Jack protested, his words muttered into Hiccup’s neck.

Hiccup chuckled. Now that the panic had left his body, everything was turned soft and weak. He felt like melting straight onto the ground, flowing over the sidewalk like a puddle of lava. “Let’s go home,” he said.

A soothing peacefulness sunk into him, as he walked the streets in the crisp, evening air with Jack and Toothless by his side. He had an emptiness inside but in the best possible way. Like his veins had been scoured clean. He slid his hand into Jack’s and received a grateful smile in return.

He was ready to sleep for a whole day. And when he woke up, he would pull his darkness out of the foggy depths of his mind. He would talk about it with Jack and Toothless. He would analyze every tiny fiber of those demons, until he fully understood, what they were made of, and what he could do about them. Because Jack was right. Suppressing them was the same as feeding them, and it was turning him into another person. Someone he didn’t want to be. So, he would face his demons. He would know his demons. He would find meaning in his demons, before he burned them. That was the only way to beat them.

 


End file.
